To be completely fair, I was asking for it. I didn't do much to lose my baby weight from last year. As a result, I look the exact same way I did when they wheeled me out with the baby. It sucks, but I figure I'll get to losing it eventually.

Today, one of our more ... unstable ... clients came in today to demand some face time with MisManager. As she was waiting for MisManager to drop everything she was doing to run and attend to her whims, CrazyClient decided to get all oddly friendly with the rest of us little people. She yelled at one of my 19-year old boys. "Hiiiii-iiiiii JailBait!" We'll just call him JailBait because he looks like he's 15.

She gets around to me, "Hey! Susanna!!!!" Who the hell is that crazy lady talking to? She's been coming into my office for 5 years. My name isn't Susanna. My name doesn't even sound like Susanna. I mean, it has an 'a' at the end, but that would be the only resemblance.

As I was turning to gently correct her mild social faux pas, she throws her hands up in the air and screams, "OH MY GOD! YOU'RE PREGNANT AGAIN!!!!!"

Bitchsezwut?

I'm not going to lie and pretend like it brought me no pleasure to inform her that: 1) "My name is not Susanna." and 2) "I'm not pregnant."

We had a lunch date with your new employee MisManager. You've known that today was her first day for over a month now. Why did you make another lunch date with a business partner today? What's wrong with any other day this week?

You fought really long and hard to get this girl into the office and she really didn't get much of a reception. You took off before she even got there, then showed up long enough to fly through the office barking, "I have to go, my daughter is sick!" at everyone before taking off again.

Oh yeah, well, me too. My daughter is also sick, but I put in my time today and I also had lunch with your new girl. My daughter is 3 and was heartbroken that she didn't get to go in with Mama and Dada today and play with her school friends. I was also pretty sad that I couldn't just stay home and care for her. Your kid, on the other hand, is 15 and can fend for herself.

Well, I found out where all the 8-year old adults hang out. They all catch the Peter Pan bus to the Walgreen's down the street from my house. Then they choose to get in line at the pharmacy and mock the employees.

"Maybe they need an Optometrist office next door. They don't seem to seem to see us all standing here."
"So anyone wanna play cards?"
"If I ordered a pizza right now, it would probably get here before I was through the line."
"Look! That one's going home! Yeah, that's what they need. Less help."

All right. I'm going to roll up my sleeves and explain basic line logic to you assholes.

Store attendants, pharmacy techs, bank tellers, DMV employees and all of their professional counterparts do not call 20 (200 in the case of the DMV) people to tell them to come in all at once. They have no control over when people show up or how many. You know this because you did not have to book an appointment to come yourself.

Likewise, they have no control over what people are bringing to them. Just because you just need one tube of ass wart cream, doesn't mean that a new pharmacy customer isn't starting anti-rejection meds.

Loudly mocking the people that you depend on to help you is not a great way to foster cooperation. I'm not even sure why I have to explain this.

As for the girl who needed to leave, her shift was over. I know that you've been waiting for a while, but there are still 4 people working very hard on clearing the line. It's not like the one who left was the magical key to instantly moving you through the line. The fact that it formed while she was there would be a huge clue.

So, I hope you learned something today, you stupid pack of jackasses. Maybe next time you'll exercise a little patience or possibly even a little brain power. I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm sure you have it in you.

It's sad that you suffer from this disorder, MissMunchausen employee. On top of your growing list of other disturbing ailments, this is the last thing that you need. What a tragedy.

By far, this is the worst case of Chronic Selective Amnesia I've ever seen. Your symptoms are keeping you from remembering even the most basic instructions. For instance, we just talked last week, both as a group and to you individually, about the expectation that everyone call in to us 1/2 an hour before their scheduled start time when they're going to be absent or late.

Calling us 2 hours after your scheduled start time doesn't fit within that guideline. Is it just coincidence that your extreme tardiness happened on a day when my manager and I were out at a meeting? Probably not. Your CSA seems to flare up worse when we're out of the office.

Speaking of the office, this is where you called us from. That's just crazy. I'm not even sure that broken logic is CSA related.

Thanks for calling to let us know that you graced the office with your presence. We were busy learning about protected disorders according to the Americans With Disabilities Act. I'll be sure to double-check the list to make sure that CSA is on there.

I understand what you're doing, because we used to use these programs when I was growing up. There are certain things you can get with your WIC voucher, certain things you can buy with the food stamps and the rest you have to pay for in cash. The programs are out there to help and I'm never one to look down on someone for using it.

I'm looking down on you, Tool, because you fought with the cashier about everything you had on the belt. That poor lady had to call her supervisor over twice to help check you out because you kept trying to pay for crap with your food stamps and WIC voucher that were not approved.

I stood in the line behind your dumb ass for 15 minutes watching you struggle to check out less than 100 items.

Next time, pay attention to which juices are or aren't approved by WIC. Ask your case worker whether or not potato chips are covered. Instead of arguing with the cashier about it for 5 minutes, maybe ask her to put that stuff back for now so you can check your facts and come back some other time. LIKE WHEN PEOPLE AREN'T GROWING A BEARD WAITING FOR YOU TO GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER. Hell, my 3-year old daughter had a wicked-looking soul patch by the time you were done.

Lucky for you, some aliens kidnapped my kid and replaced her with a quiet, patient pod baby. Normally, she would have been screaming bloody murder. I'm just vicious enough to point her right at you.